


Family Ghosts

by TeamGwenee



Series: Halloween at Casterly Rock [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Horror, Modern AU, halloween fic, some blood and violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-23 04:35:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12498888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: Every family has their secrets.And when Brienne joins her boyfriend on a trip to visit his ill father, Brienne is about to find out just how true this is.





	1. A Visit

To Brienne's admittedly untrained eye, Tywin didn't look particularly ill. At least he didn't look any different than the last few times Brienne had seen him. They had only met a handful of times but Tywin seemed to approve of her. He would nod in satisfaction whenever he saw her. Tyrion said it was because of her hips. They were big and apparently perfect for childbearing. Tywin wants heirs, Tyrion told her, someone to continue the family legacy. He had been looking for an appropriately fertile wife for Jaime for years.

Considering the haste with which Jaime insisted they hurry to Casterly Rock, Brienne had thought Tywin would be hankering for Jaime and Brienne to get a head start on the childbearing, and put those hips into use. And yet when he greeted Brienne and Jaime at the door he seemed very much his normal self. Somewhat ageless, dressed immaculately in a suit that Brienne thought he must have been born in (for she could not imagine him as a baby, naked and crying and vulnerable).

She couldn't imagine him sick either, this unflappable man who seemed half made of stone. Brienne had spent much of the journey trying to conjure an image of a sick Tywin in her head, tried to picture the rings under his eyes and pallor of his cheeks, or else its flush.

Tywin possessed none of these traits.

Nevertheless he nodded stiffly and ushered them in.

“I am glad you're here,” he informed them, “You've arrived just in time,”

Brienne watched as father and son shot each other enigmatic looks, before Jaime turned to Brienne.

“Brienne, why don't you go unpack and get settled. Dad and I need to talk,” he suggested.

“The house is undergoing renovations,” Tywin added, “If you could keep to yours and Jaime's rooms, that would be most convenient.

Brienne saw the two needed time alone and had no wish to intrude. And so, she gathered up their luggage and made her way down the winding corridors and up the vast stairs. By the time she reached Jaime's rooms, her energy was flagging. It had taken her time to find the rooms, having only visited a short time once before, but considering the vast scale of the Rock Brienne was rather impressed with herself for managing to find it at all.

The Rock was every bit as awe inspiring as Brienne remembered it. The Castle had been renovated throughout the centuries, so the architecture ranged from pre-Targaryen restoration, to 18th century up to present day. Jaime's own room was comfortingly simple, with posters of fencers and rugby players that Jaime had plastered up when he was a teenager. This insight into a young Jaime's head always made her smile.

Jaime wasn't particularity opaque, but he always closed up whenever his childhood was mentioned. Of course, Brienne understood why. Jaime and Tyrion's mother had died when Tyrion was born, and having suffered a similar loss, Brienne could understand the desire to stay mute on the subject.

Unwilling to mess around with Jaime's things and look through his drawers and wardrobes, Brienne decided to leave packing until Jaime arrived. As her wait grew longer and longer, Brienne decided she may as well get comfortable and flopped down onto the sofa in Jaime's sitting room. She flicked through the channels on his wide screen TV in a bid to distract herself.

Night time crept up on her. It had been early evening on arrival, and the dark clouds that had been gathering turned the sky a dark stormy grey. Now, the sky was pitch black and Brienne could hear the rain slapping against the window and the sea storming beneath.

She was sat waiting for two hours. Brienne could feel her eyes growing heavy and head fuzzy. The light of the TV was making her head ache. She was half asleep when she finally heard the door creak open.

“Jaime?” she called, only to see a stranger standing at the door. A young woman. Extremely beautiful, with long blonde hair and green eyes, like Jaime. She was dressed for bed, in a long white nightgown of silk and lace.

“Hello?” Brienne asked curiously, “Can I help you?”

The woman turned her back, and drifted off down the hall way. Frowning, Brienne followed hesitantly.

The woman kept walking, but when Brienne stopped in her tracks, she turned and beckoned Brienne to follow.

They came to a stop in a long Gallery. Brienne could make out the faint outlines of the portrait frames on the wall, all of deceased Lannisters.

The woman gave a charming smile, her cat like eyes sparkling.

“You're Jaime's?” the woman asked.

Brienne frowned at the odd turn of phrase, but nodded. “I am. Are you family, his cousin or...” she trailed off nervously.

All the woman gave in the way of an answer was a nod, the soft golden waves of her hair falling over her face. She cast her face towards the window, Brienne followed her gaze.

“Jaime and Tywin will not be done talking for some time,” the woman informed her, “They have much to discuss. Go to sleep,”

Brienne was not sure what to say. She was caught in the woman's eyes (so like Jaime's) and entranced by the perfect red lip and curve of the woman's smile. She felt compelled to obey, and found herself going back into Jaime's bedroom and changing into her pyjamas.

Jaime awoke her in the early hours of the morning with a kiss and an apology. Brienne rested her body against his as he clambered into bed beside her. She was too tired to ask after the beautiful woman, all she knew was the warmth of Jaime's body and his arm slung comfortingly around her waist. He kissed the back of her head, his lips pressing into her hair.

When Brienne woke the next morning, she casually inquired as to whether Tywin had the rest of the family coming up. Tyrion and Genna and such. She did not want to say anything specific about the young woman. For some reason the face was familiar, and Brienne wouldn't have been able to stand the mortification if Brienne had already made the woman's acquaintance and forgot. When Jaime replied that no more family was due to arrive, Brienne began to wonder whether the whole thing had been a dream. She had been half-asleep.

When the two made their way to breakfast, Brienne's suspicions were confirmed. They passed through the gallery, Jaime pointing out and telling Brienne about the portraits on the wall. And there, in the centre, was the portrait of a beautiful young woman with golden hair and green eyes. The woman Brienne saw the night before.

That must have have been where she got the face from, Brienne decided.

Obviously, the whole thing had been a dream.

  


  


 


	2. A Leisurely Stroll

Breakfast with Tywin was tense. He asked after Brienne's work, and nodded in approval when Brienne told him about the project she was working on. There was some stilted remarks over Daenerys Targaryen's new Bill, as well as the weather that was growing ever more dismal. Tywin seemed to eat a normal amount, it was Jaime who picked at his food. Brienne tried to catch his eye, but he just shrugged it off. Brienne wished he would talk to her, but at the end of the day she respected his father's privacy. It was up to him how much he would disclose to her about his health.

“Jaime,” Tywin said, suddenly addressing his son, “We shall need to talk after breakfast,”

“Has there been an...” Jaime cast Brienne an awkward glance, “An update,”

“I shall tell you after breakfast,”

Brienne was pretty much left to her own devices. Tywin reminded her that the house was undergoing renovations, though Brienne had yet to see any, and that it would be best to keep to her rooms.

“I don't actually see any building work going on,” Brienne remarked, “What are you having done?”

“The castle is old, and much of it is unsafe to walk through. I was in the middle of having this seen to when I was taken ill, and I did not relish in the noise and chaos the builders brought,” Tywin explained, “They will begin work again when I have recovered. Until then, much of Casterly cannot support great weights and should be avoided. We shall see you here at lunch?”

Brienne accepted this answer. She made to return to the bedroom, albeit with some reluctance. She had been cooped up in the car all day yesterday, and was longing to stretch her legs and get some fresh air. She lingered in the hallway and cast a glance at the window. The sky was grey but seemed to have cleared up somewhat since yesterday. Brienne reckoned she had some time until the rain set in, and even so some water wouldn't kill her.

She momentarily considered letting Jaime know she was heading out, but she suspected he and Tywin did not want interrupting. In truth, they seemed eager to be rid of her. Brienne would have been offended, but she had to understand where Tywin was coming from. He and Jaime seemed to have an awful lot to talk over, which seemed to Brienne to suggest that Tywin's condition was worse than it appeared. And she knew Tywin would be loathe to appear too vulnerable.

Still, sympathetic as she was, Brienne was not willing to sit around waiting for Jaime all day. She was there if he needed her, but until then she fancied walking down by the coast. Jaime had shown her the cliffs and beaches during their last visit, and there were several paths Brienne was eager to revisit.

She took the shortest one, so that she need not fear getting lost. The path was dark, shadowed by the looming trees. Branches from either side reached over and joined hands, shielding Brienne from light droplets of rain that had started to fall. Red and gold leaves crunched satisfyingly beneath her feet and Brienne breathed a sigh of contentment. The heavy atmosphere that had been present ever since the phone rang yesterday lightened the further she got from the house.

Although it was pleasant to walk and forget everything, she made sure to repeatedly check her phone in case Jaime had texted her. She sent him a short message to let him know where she was, but had received no reply.

Brienne put her hood up when she reached a clearing, where the protective barrier of branches ended. In the centre was a wishing well. It was old, with a tarp covering it that somewhat ruined the picturesque quality of the entire scene.

So did the screams.

Brienne near jumped out of her skin. Looking round frantically for the source of the screams, Brienne realised the sound was echoing from the well. She desperately tried to rip the tarp off the top, only for the plastic to be tied to heavily down. The screaming continued, and even through the muffled plastic Brienne could make out the words.

“Help me, please help me,”

Brienne's blood turned cold. The voice, the screams, they were that of a child. A little girl.

“It's OK,” she yelled down, “I'm going to get you out,”

“Please,” the child begged, “You're my friend, please don't go. You're my friend,”

“I won't go,” Brienne reassured her, still working at the tarp, “I'll get you out, I'll get you out,”

The screams stopped. Terrified that the girl was injured, she doubled her efforts.

“Can you hear me?” she cried out, “Are you alright sweetheart, can you still hear me?”

But there was only silence. Even the drops of the rain and the howl of the wind seemed to have stopped.

“Hello?” Brienne called down the well once more.

“Hello,” a voice whispered back.

The voice did not come from the well, nor was it that of the little girl's. It was a woman's, and it was coming from behind Brienne. For a moment, all thoughts of the child in the well were forgotten. Brienne knew that voice, and as she slowly turned round she saw that she knew the face.

It was the woman from last night. The woman from the portrait. She was dressed differently, her nightdress was shorter, dirty and ragged. Her hair looked as though it had not seen a brush in days and her feet were caked in mud. Her eyes were hollow and cheeks were gaunt. Brienne knew her face must have turned white at the sight, and her heart was thumping in her ears. Yet even so, she could not forget the little girl in the well.

“Please,” she begged, “I need help,”

“Oh?” the woman asked.

“There's a girl stuck in the well, I cannot lift the tarp myself but if you helped me-” Brienne turned back to the well ad tugged at the tarp to demonstrate, “Maybe we could...”

Brienne looked round once more, but the woman was gone. She rested her ear against the tarp, to see if she could hear the little girl. Instead, she heard footprints thundering towards her.

“Brienne?” it was Jaime, sweating and with a half-crazed look in his eyes, “Thank the Seven,”

He reached out and pulled his dazed girlfriend into a bone crushing hug. Brienne allowed herself to be comforted by his embrace, before tearing away from him and looking desperately round the clearing.

“Did you see her?” she demanded.

Jaime reached out and grabbed her arm. “See who?”

“The woman, the woman in the white dress?”

Jaime's grip tightened. “You saw a woman? Where?”

Brienne gestured wildly, jerking herself out of Jaime's grasp and dashing towards the trees.

“I just..” she trailed off awkwardly, “I just saw her,”

Jaime's hand was on her shoulder again, gently pulling her away and back to the path.

“Come on,” he said soothingly, “Let's get you home,”

Brienne blinked and shook her head. “No,” she said insistently, dragging herself back to reality, “There is a girl, stuck in the well. We need to get her out,”

Jaime grimaced. “Did she call for help? Beg you not to leave. Call you her friend?”

Brienne frowned. “I-yes. How did you..?”

Jaime wrapped his arm round Brienne's shoulders and walked her back to the path. “It was a prank. The woman you saw was probably part of it. I suppose she ran when she heard me turn up," he told her, “A little girl fell down that well years ago, when I was a child. The well is said to be haunted. Sometimes people play recordings of a little girl crying out for help,”

“That's horrible,” Brienne said, aghast.

Jaime hmmed in agreement, his face turning grave. His jaw was stiff and as she glanced anxiously at him, Brienne could not suppress the feeling that he was angry with her.

“Jaime?” Brienne asked, “Why were you in such a hurry to find me?”

Jaime glanced up at the grey sky, “There is a storm coming. These cliffs can get dangerous when the waves get big,”

 _'He is lying.'_ Brienne thought suddenly. He wouldn't meet her eyes, and he held her too tight for comfort.

“You could have called me,” Brienne pointed out.

“The signal out here is shit,” Jaime said succinctly, “I only got your text ten minutes ago,”

They walked back to Casterly, neither making a noise. The cloying silence was broken only by the pounding of the rain, the squelching of the mud and crackling leaves underfoot, and all that was left unsaid.

 


	3. Some Ghosts

Ever since the well incident, Brienne was rarely left alone. Jaime stuck to her side like glue, and when he had to speak to his father he constantly checked up on her. Jaime's sudden over-protectiveness only increased Brienne's unease. The prank had left Brienne feeling unnerved, and the silence of Casterly Rock only gave Brienne further chance to mull on the events. During her last visit, Casterly Rock was host to a large staff. Apparently, in his need for rest and quiet Tywin had given the staff a holiday, with only a housekeeper and cook who had worked for the family for years remaining.

As such, most of Casterly was dusty. The cook and the housekeeper tip-toed around the family, and the tension between Tywin and Jaime only grew more fraught. Although Brienne had endeavoured to be understanding and respect Tywin's privacy, Jaime's secrecy was driving her up the rails. Jaime saw this, and in a bid to help them both escape the atmosphere at Casterly, drove with her down to the market at Lannisport.

Clearly, the place went for Halloween in a big way. Market stalls selling crafts and decorations and intricately carved pumpkins lined up. Little children with their parents and young lovers browsed happily, while others rushed past to get to the shopping centre at the middle of town. The hustle and bustle of town, the contact with everyday life, lifted Brienne's spirits. Beside her, Jaime smiled properly for the first time since Tywin called.

“Toffee apples!” she said, marching eagerly towards the stall. She loved all things sweet, and had grown up forbidden from toffee apples and such due to having spent most of her adolescence in braces. Jaime laughed to see Brienne's eyes light up like a child's as she took her first bite.

He nudged her in the side and nodded towards a wreath made up of black tinsel and black and orange baubles.

“What do you think? A present for dad?” he suggested.

“It should go with the décor very well,” Brienne laughed, “I'm sure he would be delighted. But only if we get some of those witch puppets to hand from the turrets,”

“And gravestones for the front garden,” Jaime grinned, “Could you imagine his face if we decorated Casterly Rock for Halloween?”

“He'd be the only Halloween decoration needed! You wouldn't need to worry about trick or treaters. They'd all be too scared to knock,”

Jaime caught sight of a van selling hot dogs and burgers. Brienne followed his line of sight and felt her mouth watering at the savoury smell.

“What do you say? Buy one of each and go half and half,”

“I don't know,” Brienne said, looking guiltily down at the half eaten toffee apple.

“Come on,” Jaime insisted, “You only picked at breakfast and ate nothing at dinner,”

Brienne thought Jaime hadn't noticed. She had been too sickened by the memories of the child's screams, fake they may be, to eat. But the toffee apple had awoken her hunger and set her stomach rumbling.

“Alright,” she conceded. The sausages especially looked rather good, better than most hot dogs sold from vans.

Jaime squeezed her arm and cut through the crowds to join the queue.

“He's taking care of you,” a jovial voice said.

Brienne turned to see the women selling the toffee apples smiling warmly at her. She looked to be in her eighties, round and plump with a motherly face.

“I'm sorry?” Brienne asked.

“Jaime,” the woman nodded at Jaime's retreating back, “He's looking after you. You're his girlfriend?”

Brienne blushed and nodded, “I am,” She took a large bite of the toffee apple, eager to finish up so that the burger and hot dogs wouldn't get too cold. The toffee glued her jaw together

The woman beamed. “I've known Jaime since he was child. Coming down to my stall to buy sweets for him and his brother. He was the same back then as well, so protective of little Tyrion. Of course, after what happened to his sister...”

Brienne looked up, startled. The woman took this as an indication to go on.

“I remember it as though it were yesterday,” she said, “The poor girl. And so beautiful too. One can only imagine what became of her, though of course you'd rather not think of it. Lovely child like that,” the woman shuddered. Even so, she seemed to relish the tale. Clearly enough time had past for the toffee apple seller to appreciate the drama of the whole thing. “It was around Autumn, I remember because it was my first year selling toffee apples. I was just closing up for the night when Mr Lannister turned up. He was as white as a sheet and shaking like a leaf He was begging, actually _begging,_ if anyone had seen his little girl. She had snuck out earlier that day and none had seen her. I had never seen the man like that, none of us had. And of course his wife had just died,” the woman tutted sympathetically.

Brienne swallowed down the apple, staring at the woman with wide boggling eyes. “Jaime's sister went missing?” she whispered, “Did she- did she fall down the well,”

“Oh no,” the woman shook her head, “Though of course that was the first place they checked. After what happened to poor little Melara. They were the best of friends, and many suspect it was her death that caused Cersei to sneak out of the house that night. People do act so oddly when they're grieving-”

The woman stared at Brienne horror, catching onto the full implications of Brienne's question. “You don't mean to say, he never told you?”

“No,” a curt voice from behind Brienne said, “I hadn't,”

The toffee apple seller turned white and panicked in the face of Jaime's glare, which was somehow intimidating and frightening even with the hot dog and burger in hand and mustard on his mouth. The woman stammered her apologies, well aware she had over stepped the mark. Mortified at having been caught gossiping about his sister's disappearance, she hastily turned to her next customer.

“Time to head back,” Jaime asked in a casual voice that wouldn't convince a two year old. Brienne took the proffered burger and followed Jaime back to the car. Even when they were strapped in and Jaime had handed over the rest of the hot dog and ate his share of the burger did he sit there, making no move to start the car.

Brienne broke the silence.

“Jaime, I'm so sorry,” she said.

“Why?” Jaime scoffed in a choked voice, “It's not your fault that nosy old cow couldn't keep her mouth shut.

Seeing the tears in his eyes and hearing the lump in his throat, Brienne could not help but catch a glimpse of the motherless little boy who couldn't understand how he had lost his sister too. No wonder he had been acting on edge ever since they arrived. She unstrapped herself and pulled him into a hug. No longer trying to hold back his tears, Jaime wept into her shoulder. He remained in Brienne's embrace for fifteen minutes, until all his tears had dried up.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered, “It's just, she was my twin,” he admitted, “It's so hard to think of her. Even if it was years ago, she's still a part of me. I carry her with me everywhere I go. Some ghosts just never leave you,”

 


	4. The Truth Will Out

Jaime found Brienne in the gallery. They had arrived an hour ago, just as the heavens opened and torrents of rain came thundering down onto Casterly Rock. She was staring, engrossed up at the portrait of the beautiful blonde woman. Try as she might to convince herself that it had all been in her head, a trick of the light, she knew it was the same woman she had seen on her first night at Casterly Rock. And again by the well.

She was so absorbed by the portrait that Jaime gave a start when she addressed him, certain she had not noticed him approach.

“Who was she?” Brienne asked softly.

“Queen Cersei Lannister, twin sister of Ser Jaime Goldenhand,” Jaime replied, joining her in her examination.

“I've never heard of her,” Brienne stated. Ser Jaime and many of his contemporaries were extremely famous, legends but with a great deal recorded about their lives.

“Not much is known about her,” he admitted, “Only that she was a Queen, she was beautiful”, he jerked his head towards the portrait, “And that she lived in Casterly Rock after the long night. There are barely any accounts of her life. Just her birth, marriage and death. Most of what is known of her comes from housekeeping accounts during her stay at Casterly, detailing what was brought for her, that's how we know she had a taste for luxury,” Jaime shrugged, “Apart from that, she's been pretty much forgotten,”

“Apart from her portrait,” Brienne added.

“Even they were hidden away, father paid an arm and a leg to get them restored,”

“They?” Brienne repeated, “There is more than one?”

For some reason, Jaime flushed, even as he tried to dismiss it. “Somewhere around here,” he said in an airy tone.

“She's got the same name as your sister,” Brienne murmured softly.

Jaime's eyes flickered towards Brienne and back to the painting. His silence made Brienne wonder as though he would refuse to say anything on the topic, after he had kept his sister's existence secret from him for years.

“Mother always wanted to name a son after Ser Jaime Goldenhand,” Jaime said at last, “When she found out she was carrying twins she thought it seemed right to make his twin my twin's namesake. Little might been known about her but, beautiful, a Queen and long lived...that all sounded rather good. I suppose mother hoped that history would repeat itself,”

Brienne looked into the dead Queen's cold green eyes and shuddered.

“Why the sudden fascination?” Jaime asked.

Brienne turned to face him. Her tongue felt thick and heavy in her mouth. Would he believe her? Or would he have her locked in a padded cell in a straight jacket for psychological evaluation?

“Because that's the woman I saw by the well,” she said at last, watching his face turn white, “And the one I saw outside our bedroom,”

“You saw her outside our...” Jaime trailed off, his face drained of all blood.

“Jaime,” Brienne said sternly, “What's going on? Tell me,”

“We should tell her,”

Brienne and Jaime looked round to see Tywin watching them coolly. He really didn't look ill, Brienne noticed once more.

“We should tell her Jaime,” Tywin repeated in a voice that brooked no argument, “It is time she knew the truth,”

**~**

Jaime pushed a glass of whiskey into Brienne's hands, for which she was very glad. He also passed her a blanket to wrap round her shoulders, even though there was a roaring fire lit in Tywin's office. Jaime and Tywin stood before her as she sat upon an opulent leather chair. Behind them on Tywin's desk, CCTV footage from all over the house showed up in black and white on Tywin's computer screen.

“I've told Mrs Marbrand and Pia to stay home,” he informed Jaime, “And I have alerted to Private Investigators,”

Jaime nodded stiffly. “Good,”

Brienne frowned in impatience. “Now will you tell me what is going on?” she snapped.

Tywin looked expectantly at his son. “Jaime,” he prompted.

“Cersei,” Jaime began, sighing and sitting beside Brienne, “Cersei didn't go missing,”

“What?” Brienne stuttered.

“Her friend, Melara, she never fell down the well. Cersei pushed her. We only realised it was her though, when we found her trying to smother Tyrion in his sleep. She blamed him for mother's death,”

“Does Tyrion know?” Brienne demanded.

“No, I doubt Tyrion even remembers he ever had a sister,” Jaime said, “We never talked about her. We couldn't risk telling him, he was so little. He could blurt something out by accident, and then Cersei would have been taken away,”

Jaime cast an uneasy glance at his father, who had turned his back to them and was staring into the depths of the fire.

“And the little girl, Melara? If she was her friend, why would she try to drown her?”

“Because of me,” Jaime said simply, “Melara had a crush on me. And Cersei, Cersei was possessive of me,” his hand curled round Brienne's, squeezing it tightly, “She still is,”

Brienne took her hand back and shook her head. “If all this is true, why doesn't anyone know?”

“Because I had just lost my wife,” Tywin replied, still staring into the flames, “I wasn't about to lose my daughter too,”

“We didn't call the police,” Jaime admitted, “Instead, we pretended that Cersei had gone missing. Whilst the police and the entire town searched all over for a sign of her, she was hidden safely away in one of the towers,”

“You should have gotten her doctors,” Brienne said, numb with shock, anger rising in her voice, “You should have tried to help her,”

  
“We thought we were,” Jaime protested, “She was far from anyone who she could hurt. She never wanted for anything. She lived like a queen. Literally. She had the same towers that Queen Cersei lived in. She had toys when she was young, jewellery and entertainment when she was older. Golden mirror frames, gourmet food. A four poster bed, anything she wanted. We even put the other portrait of Queen Cersei in there, because she loved it so much. It looked so much like her-”

“And what about Melara, and her family? Didn't they deserve justice?” Brienne cut him off.

“What good would that have done?” Jaime snapped, “Justice wouldn't bring their daughter back! The truth would only end in more heartbreak,” he softened and clutched Brienne's shoulders, begging her to understand, “We couldn't have Cersei taken from us. Not so soon after losing mother,”

“Don't think we haven't lived with the guilt,” Tywin turned to face her, his face passive but for the wildfire blazing in his eyes.

“The voice in the well,” Brienne said, “That wasn't a prank, was it?”

Jaime shook his head. “It wasn't,” he confirmed.

“And you've heard it too?” Brienne asked, “Both of you?”

“Every night, ever since we hid Cersei away,” Tywin answered.

Silence fell upon the party. The little girl may have died years ago, her body dragged from the well and buried. And yet she was still trapped. Still pleading to be released. Brienne felt sick.

“And now?” Brienne carried on, “What has happened now? I'm going out on a limb here and saying you're not actually ill,”

“There was a fire, in Cersei's tower,” Tywin said, “I know not how it started. But I had to let her out, and in the chaos, she escaped. When I couldn't find her, I called Jaime,”

“And even then you didn't tell the police?” Brienne muttered incredulously, “She could have hurt someone,”

“We have some of the best Private Investigators on the case,” Jaime assured her, “People we can trust. There was a sighting of her, on the edges of the estate, and that's where we believed she has been. Except...”

“Except now I've seen her,” Brienne finished, “And somehow, she has been able to get inside the house without you realising?”

Tywin nodded. “Exactly. At this moment, Cersei could be anywhere. Out in the grounds, or in the house,” he turned back to the security cameras, “All we can do is wait for her to reveal herself,"

 


	5. Family Reunion

The quality of the footage was good. Even so it blurred before Brienne's eyes as she watched for any sign of Cersei Lannister. Jaime sat stiffly beside her, whilst Tywin barked down the line to the Private Investigators. That his daughter had somehow managed to make her way into and out of their house without alerting anyone had Tywin in a rage. He did not scream or shout, but his face was white and eyes aflame. Still, it was not Tywin's bad mood that concerned his son.

“You're angry at me,” Jaime murmured into Brienne's ear.

Brienne's eyes remained fixed on the screens, but she gave him a stiff nod.

“Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” he asked, quietly so his father didn't hear them.

“Let's just focus on this for now,” Brienne replied curtly.

“Brienne, there must be something I can do,” he begged, throwing all Lannister pride aside.

“Jaime, accept it. You fucked up. I'm not going to waste time absolving you of the guilt you should rightfully feel when there are more important things to focus on,” Brienne snapped, “For one, finding your sister before she hurts anyone,”

“There's no other houses nearby. And Cersei isn't strong,” Jaime assured her, “Everyone in this house is alert and could easily overpower her. And if Cersei is hiding in the grounds, out in this weather, the only person she's in danger of is herself,”

The rain and the wind had exploded into a full on storm. Brienne had to admit that Cersei was more likely to be blown into the sea than go on a murderous rampage. Even so, Brienne was still fuming.

“Jaime, I was seeing things. Hearing voices. Seven Hells Jaime, I thought I was going mad,” Brienne turned to Jaime with wide eyes, trembling at having admitted the thought that had haunted her at the back of her mind ever since she first saw Cersei Lannister.

“If you had told me that you saw her the truth would have come out a lot sooner,” Jaime pointed out.

“Oh I'm sorry, I should have been aware that we were keeping our eyes peeled for murderous twin sisters,” Brienne glared.

“I didn't mean that,” Jaime hastily apologised, “I just meant that I would never let you think you were going mad,”

“And what if she does hurt someone?” Brienne demanded, “What if she goes down to the town, or sneaks up on someone,”

“She won't,” Jaime assured her, “We will find her before that happens,”

Brienne was unable to make a reply before one by one, the screens turned to static and blinked off, leaving nothing but black staring up at them.

Tywin stormed up to them and banged on the screens, “What just happen-”

The light-bulbs exploded and the roaring fire was put out with the ease of a dying candle. Tywin, Brienne and Jaime were sat in silence, the darkness creeping up on them and smothering them like a heavy smog.

“Does anyone else hear footsteps?” Brienne whispered, just before a heavy blow landed against the back of her head and she was plunged into darkness.

**~**

Her head was still aching as she came to. Brienne felt the back were the blow had landed and was glad to see there was no blood, although there would not doubt be a beautiful lump in the morning.

A sense of dread had enveloped Brienne long before she was able to gather her thoughts and remember how she came to be unconscious, but the sight of Tywin knocked out beside her brought her back to reality with a jolt. She scrambled forward and pressed her fingers to his pulse. It was strong. Brienne gently lay Tywin into the recovery position, calling out for Jaime as she did.

“Jaime,” she hissed, “Jaime, you're father's out cold. You need to call him an ambulance and.... Jaime?”

“There was no reply. Still slightly dizzy, she reached out and felt for her boyfriend. “Jamie?” she cried out, growing desperate as she found no sign of him. She winced in pain as she walked into the corner of Tywin's desk, and again when she bumped into his bookcase. But never into Jaime's arms, which was where she truly wanted to be.

“Jaime!” she cried out one last time, her voice growing hoarse and strained with un-shed tears. She scrabbled at the table, nearly weeping with relief at coming into contact with a torch. She moved round the room slowly, so as not to miss a thing. Glass was strewn across the floor and papers had flown everywhere. But there was no sign of Jaime. She moved to the doorway and ran her hands across the grooves freshly scratched into the side. Heart in throat, Brienne ran her hand along the wall to confirm her suspicions. Fingernails.

_'Let them be Cersei's, let Jaime have dragged her from the room and got her to safety,'_ Brienne prayed.

Inside her trainers, Brienne's toes curled. She had stood in something wet. A puddle. She looked at the water oozing round her feet. She cast her torch at the window to see if it had been broken, but it was in tact. Nor could Brienne make out any leak or a spilled glass. Trembling, she made her way down the corridor, following the trail of water. It lead to the front door, which was banging open and shut in the gale. She stood in the doorway, the rain mingling with her tears and stinging her cheeks.

If Jaime had Cersei under his control, he would not have taken her outside. Cersei was free, and out there, with Jaime.

She had to find him. Had to help him. She fumbled with her phone, which slipped between her wet fingers. She tried to dial over and over, but there was no signal. With a scream, she hurled it across the room. She grabbed the door-frame to stop herself from sinking to the floor and shrinking into a huddle. She had to stay calm. She had to help Jaime.

Brienne tried to reassure herself that Jaime was strong. And he was right. When she caught sight of Cersei at the well she had looked weak and bedraggled, she probably hadn't eaten in days. And her torn and stained nightgown would have offered little shelter from the cold-

The nightgown. When Brienne saw Cersei for the first time, she looked well-rested and clean. And in a different nightgown.

It wasn't the same woman.

Melara, that poor little girl, wasn't the only ghost still around. She had not seen Cersei, but the woman in the portrait. The Queen. And there was no knowing what this one could do. Brienne gazed helplessly at the dark path before her. She needed to find him, but where could he be?

“ _Please, help me. You're my friend, please don't go. You're my friend,”_

The well. Cersei had taken Jaime to the well.

Brienne charged through rain, cutting through the biting wind and thick sludge. It was like in a nightmare, she couldn't run fast enough. She prayed that it wouldn't be too late. She prayed to the Old Gods and the New, the Drowned and the Lord of Light. _'Please, don't let it be too late'._

She came to the clearing to see Cersei dragging a dazed and bound Jaime. He was taller than her, and she was struggling to keep him propped up. She would not have been able to carry him alone. But she wasn't alone. There, behind her, stood the other Cersei. She was watching with a beatific smile. With her golden hair haloing her face, and pure white nightgown flowing around her, she looked so beautiful. So innocent, like an angel.

The bitch.

Queen Cersei's smile grew and grew as Jaime was dragged to the well. With a regal wave of her hand, the tarp was blown off and the top of the well emerged, its centre as black as a bottomless pit.

Brienne shot forward. She reached out and ripped at Jaime's sister's hair, dragging her head back by her greasy, matted locks. Cersei's grip loosened and Jaime collapsed to the ground and Brienne thrust her fist into Cersei's nose, shattering it. Blood spurted out in a fountain and Cersei cried out in pain. Brienne wrapped her arm round Cersei's neck in a headlock, but felt an invisible arm wrenching her away from her captive. Brienne was hurled to the ground and pinned down as she thrashed and struggled wildly.

Queen Cersei hovered above her, blood now staining her once perfect nightdress. Her smile had disappeared and was replaced with one of pure malevolence. Her golden hair streamed out beside her like snakes, twisting and coiling in the wind. One hand hovering over Brienne to keep her down, Cersei raised the other. Jaime's limp body followed, arms, legs and head dangling like a grotesque puppet. He was jerked along to the brink of the well, whilst all Brienne could do was watch, still struggling against Queen Cersei's vice like grip.

Hand pressed to her nose, the living Cersei watched as Jaime's body approached the well, smiling in ecstasy through the blood which seeped into her open mouth and coated her white teeth. Even as she choked and spluttered she laughed, struggling to her feet and following him. Her red hands were outstretched, ready to give him the final push.

“No!” Brienne cried as Jaime's body plummeted down the black hole....

 


	6. An Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FInal chapter! Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed and left kudos. This is my first time writing a horror fic and I've always wanted to, so any feedback is welcome.

...Only to be promptly spat out again.

Even Queen Cersei, floating high above the rest like a goddess, looked confused. Her hold on Brienne weakened and Brienne wrenched herself up, throwing herself across Jaime's body. Cersei screeched and struck at Brienne. Brienne kept her grip firm around Jaime's body, refusing to relinquish her hold of him even as Cersei's nail tore at her skin. Cersei's strikes grew weaker as she grew faint from the loss of blood, her cries swept away from the rain and wind.

Queen Cersei's howls and screams rose up against the storm, piercing Brienne's ears and shaking the ground around her. Queen Cersei raised her hands and Brienne tightened her grip, preparing herself to be ripped apart or else thrown into the well beside him. No invisible hands came and instead, despite the biting cold, Brienne felt warmth surge through her body. Queen Cersei's screams were abruptly cut off and were replaced with a persistent drip.

Brienne looked up to see a little girl rising from the well. Her long dark hair that lay matted against her head and her drenched school uniform clung to her tiny body. Hands outstretched, she reached out and circled Queen Cersei's lily white throat. Queen's Cersei's eyes bulged form her head as she scrabbled desperately at Melara's tightening fingers. Beside Brienne, Cersei writhed and twisted in the mud.

With a smile, Melara lurched backwards and dove head-first into the well, dragging Queen Cersei down with her.

Jaime awoke in Brienne's embrace, just in time to watch Cersei splutter and choke. Water bubbled form her mouth and she flailed in panic, before the water filled her lungs and she grew still.

~

For the first time in years, Jaime and Tywin passed a night without hearing Melara's desperate cries for help. In the morning, they gathered Cersei's body and buried her in the back garden. Neither Jaime nor Brienne could stand to spend another moment in Casterly Rock, and so they gathered up their things and shoved them into the car. Tywin refused their offer to come and stay.

He shook Jaime's and Brienne's hands in turn. As he did, he leaned forward into Brienne's ear and whispered _“Look after Jaime,”_

Brienne didn't need to be told to, but there was something almost plaintive in his eyes that Brienne felt moved to smile and promise, with all hear heart, to take care of his son.

“Goodbye Jaime,” Tywin said stiffly.

“Goodbye father,” Jaime replied, before adding hesitantly, “Listen, there have been too many secrets in this family. Do you think we should tell Tyrion the truth?”

“Tell him what you wish,” Tywin said with a sigh, “That is your decision now,”

Jamie frowned as he watched his father turn his back and return to the empty Casterly Rock. There was something weary in the manner Tywin held his shoulders, and he seemed oddly diminished as he approached the grand old house. For the first time since Tywin's 'illness' had been announced, the ageing man looked frail. His wrinkled and greying hair made clearer by the cheerful yellow sun.

“How could he bare to stay?” Brienne mused as they climbed into the car and began the drive away from Casterly, “After all that has happened?”

Jaime shook his head. “He couldn't bare not to. Father has spent his entire life at Casterly. It is his entire life. Tywin is a part of Casterly, and he will never leave,”

 _'Neither will Cersei'_ Brienne mused, the treacherous thought creeping into her brain like poison ivy.

Jaime's face darkened and his grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. Brienne watched him in silence, wondering if he was thinking what she was thinking

“Will you tell Tyrion?” she said at last.

Jaime shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. There's not really any point, it's all over now,”

Brienne closed her eyes and rested her head against the plush leather headrest, saying nothing to Jaime's declaration. She made no protest or disagreement. It was just another lie. After all, what was another lie? Neither of them believed it. She didn't have to say a word.

Both of them knew it wasn't over.

~

_Though she had sworn not to, Brienne has returned to Casterly Rock. She walks along the ruby red velvet carpet and up the marble stairs. She climbs further and further up, through door after door until she comes to a twisting stone staircase. She mounts the stairs, clutching at the hand rail with and old withered hand to keep herself from slipping._

_She comes to an archway, where once stood a heavy and highly bolted oak door. Stepping through, she peers round the remains of what had once been a handsome room. The last strips of the velvet bed curtains are black, crumbling against Brienne's touch. The door of the wardrobe fall off its hinges at the slightest pull, and the silk evening gowns within are grey and charred round the edges._

_In the corner, a once priceless collection of china dolls sit discarded. The once silky and luscious hair is burned away, as are their previously intricate wardrobe of clothes. Their eyes are gone, with black veins trickling away from the empty sockets and down the bone white cheeks. But their smiles remain. They sit perched above an old toy-box, which had once been yellow and exquisitely painted, but is now black. Opening it reveals a treasure trove of melted plastic and twisted metal._

_The books are gone, up in a blaze of smoke, but the jewellery on the dresser remained, albeit somewhat tarnished._

_Cersei had loved her jewels. She had loved sitting at the dresser, combing out her long blonde hair with an ivory comb and dabbing perfume at her wrists. She would wear one of her divine evening gowns and smile at her reflection in her antique looking glass. For a moment, she would feel a semblance of peace, calmed by her beauty._

_Then the resentment would come crushing down, stronger then ever. It would eat away at her, burning her from within. Why should such beauty be hidden away? Denied its chance in the sunlight before it wasted and shrivelled away like a rose past its bloom. It wasn't fair._

_The portrait above her bed agreed._

_It was a beautiful portrait. A young Queen, in a crimson gown gazing out of an exquisitely wrought golden frame. It still is, in fact. The portrait is all that remains of the fire. Brienne stares up at, her eyes taking in every curl of the hair, every shine on the silk. The eyes as green as emeralds and the coy half smile on her pink the lips._

_The smile shifts. The eyes snap onto Brienne's face and the smile turns into a snarl. With nails as sharp and deadly as talons, the Queen lurches forward and buries her fingers into Brienne's chest. She squeezes her heart, tighter and tighter until it bursts._

Brienne awoke gasping. She struck out a hand to wake Jaime, only to see him with his eyes already open. It had been months since they left Casterly, nearly a year. She thought she was the past the nightmares.

“Jaime,” she begged, “You've got to call your father. No, call an ambulance, tell them he's had a heart attack. He's in the tower-”

“Brienne,” Jaime interrupted, squeezing her shoulders and staring into her blue eyes with warm, mournful green ones. He blinked, tears running down his cheeks. “Brienne, I know,” he told her hoarsely. He crushed her against his chest, shoulders heaving.

With a gulp, Brienne wrapped her arms round Jaime and buried her face in his chest. Jaime ran a soothing hand down Brienne's back and his face into Brienne's hair. Even as her locks grew damp and her arms began to ache, Brienne made no move to break away. She had no intention of looking up from Jaime's shirt, nor Jaime from her hair.

Why would they want to? Why would they need to?

The slight hint of smoke, the rustle of silk, the soft breathing and the steady drip, drip, drip, was all they needed to know what was watching them. Who was watching them. Who would always be watching them.

It had been foolish, delusional even, to hope that they might escape. No matter how long they waited, how far they ran, she would always be watching. They would never be free.

Some ghosts just never leave you.

 


End file.
